


Loyalties

by Moirae (TigerDragon), TiaNadiezja



Series: All of Space and Time [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Always-a-girl!Doctor, F/F, Mythological Mash-up, Non-Graphic Violence, Partnership
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerDragon/pseuds/Moirae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiaNadiezja/pseuds/TiaNadiezja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>London's in trouble, and the Doctor and her faithful companion are there to help in the nick of time. Or maybe just past it. Sometimes things don't quite work as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loyalties

**Author's Note:**

> Completely different set of incarnations for the Doctor, all female, and an original companion. We wanted to get some of that old-serial flavor with a new-series style.
> 
> Obviously, Doctor Who isn't ours. But we hope you like this version.

“Ah, yes... merry old London.”  The Doctor turned her key, locking the TARDIS before spinning on one heel to start down the street.  “Come on, now... Mother Dearest isn’t going to wait a year for us.  Or maybe she will...”  A beggar turned his eyes on the Doctor, who flicked a coin - a two-inch-wide disk of silver from three planets ago - into his pan.  “But I wouldn’t bet on it.  These Yggdrasil... never the patient sort.”

“Sticky, too.” Isabel Adler fell in next to her, settling a long coat of black cloth around her own shoulders which suggested any number of fabrics without quite being any of them. Her hand slipped under it to touch something, then withdrew again in satisfaction. “It took me ages to get those last dozen out of my hair.”

“I told you this would be exciting.  I never said it would be sanitary.  Ah, yes... taxi!”  As the cab stopped, the Doctor pulled the back door open, gesturing for Isabel to enter.  “The calculations of Mother Dearest’s temporal trajectory put her somewhere near Scotland Yard.  We’ll start there and see if she’s arrived yet.”

“Definitely exciting.” Isabel slid into the cab with a lithe dexterity, all her natural grace - the same that had drawn the Doctor’s eye from the first moment - honed to a panther’s stalking smoothness by practice and a simple, shameless freedom to be.

The Doctor paused a moment to watch Isabel move, then joined her in the back of the cab.  “I’d really prefer to drive.  Cabbie, can I drive?  No?  Ah, well... your loss.”  She turned her eyes on Isabel with a wide, excited smile - something entirely at odds with the idea of Earth being slowly taken over by psychic formstealing aliens.  “Scotland Yard.”

Isabel laughed softly, her eyes gleaming with delight. “You know, I never get tired of visiting the Yard. It’s one of those things that never quite disappoints - like the End or the Great Rift.”

“Remind me one day to show you the Great Attractor.  It’s quite... interesting.”  The Doctor leaned forward in her seat, holding the back of the driver’s seat with both hands.  “This time, we’re there on business.”

“True. I suppose that means we ought to forgo....” Isabel’s eyes wandered slowly, and then came to a sudden sharp stop. “Doctor, do people walk about having bloody great convocations in the park this year?”

“I’m not sure.  They didn’t last year, and won’t next year... cabbie, stop the car.  Hold it here for us.”  The Doctor gazed out the window, curiously fascinated.  

Several hundred people of all sorts - old, young, rich and comfortable and ragged - stood about in the park, speaking in small clusters that shifted and drifted across the green in the sort of pattern that tugged subtly at the corner of one’s eyes. It could have been any day in a crowded park, any normal day.... except that nobody was coming, and nobody was going, and there was something intense in the air that had made Isabel’s nose twitch. That, right now, was raising the hairs on the back of her neck.

The Doctor slid from the car, reaching for Isabel’s hand as she did, and slid her hand into the long brown coat that she always wore.  “Now this... is... interesting.  Moving as one, but having to talk to each other?  Yes... I think I know what is happening here.”

Isabel squeezed the doctor’s hand in hers, her own hand sliding into her coat and cupping the fluted metal rod hanging from the belt of her skirt. “Bloody lovely day for a punch up, isn’t it?”

“We’re late.”  The Doctor withdrew the slender silver cylinder of her sonic screwdriver from her inside pocket.  “Count them.  How many?”  Her eyes were darting quickly, the way they did when she was considering a complex problem.

“Thirty-seven. No, thirty-eight.” Isabel shifted the rod fully into her hand, unlocking it from its strap. “Bit more than the last time.”

“Thirty-eight.  To put out that many eggs would take... six, seven months.  We _are_  late.”  The Doctor began to scan the area with the screwdriver.  “That one.  That one.  That one.  What do they have in common?”

“Bit tall for their age, aren’t they? That old lady, in particular - don’t see too many of them six feet high.”

“You don’t?  I suppose not.”  The Doctor pocketed the screwdriver.  “Tall.  What else?  Something that could tell us where they might have gone in common... what makes someone wish they were tall, see themselves as tall?”

“Wait... there’s something else.” Isabel rocked slowly on her heels, her eyes narrowing in concentration, then swore. “Bloody hell. It’s obvious, isn’t it? They’re all dressed Savile Row.”

“Well-dressed folk, then... or folk who wish they were well-dressed, and had contact with well-dressed people.  Wait staff, or hotel porters...”  The Doctor turned slowly, her eyes moving over the skyline.  “You read the travel guide... what is the best hotel in London today?  Sparing no expense?”

“The Savoy. Oh, lovely, do we get to see it? I heard it was just being finished when I left home, and I always so wanted to go.”

“Come on, then.”  The Doctor turned to go back to the cab.  “One of them will be calling Mother to tell her - or those protecting her - that we’ve arrived.  They’ll be ready.”

“Oh, joy, and won’t that be a lovely little scrap.” Isabel’s eyes flashed with pale fire. “That’ll put the lead in our pencil, no mistake.”

“You say the strangest things sometimes, my dear.”  The Doctor leaned forward again.  “The Savoy.  Quickly now.”

Isabel leaned back in the cab as it moved, keeping the rod across her lap as she reached under the coat and the suit jacket under it to take a 1989 Browning Hi-Power from its holster. She checked it with practiced hands, glancing at it only once, her eyes sweeping the street. “Will we be having it out in the street, then, or do you think they’ll feel like chatting?”

“They’re trying to take the world by subterfuge.  Fighting us in the streets isn’t likely to help them with that.  No, they’ll let us go somewhere they control access to, then pile on us like wolves on prey.”

“Lovely. We going to play along, or change the bill of fare?”

“The advantage of playing along is that the place they can fight us most securely is likely to be where Mother Dearest is hiding.  The disadvantage is that we’ll likely die.  Still, seems better than trying to fight them elsewhere then find her without a guide...”

“Right, then.” Isabel smiled crookedly, replacing the Browning, and then slipped a strange iridescent _thing_ which seemed to melt into the air whenever she stopped moving it from the opposite holster and settled it against her palm as she checked it by touch. “Dinner at the Savoy after our certain deaths, then?”

“That sounds quite pleasant.”  As the cab stopped, the Doctor leaned forward, pressing a few bills into the cabbie’s hand.  “You’ll want to be far from here.  Very, very far.”

“Best a few blocks, just in case. Hate to see you go up in a flash with a fair share of London. Good day to you!” Isabel slid out of the car and walked with her hands loose at her sides, the weapon a subtle trailing blur around her fingers as she walked. “In case I haven’t mentioned it lately, my darling, I love you madly.”

The Doctor flashed Isabel a smile, walking to the employee entrance of the hotel and holding the sonic screwdriver over the keyhole.  One click later and they were in the kitchens, confronted by two women who were far too tall for their builds.  “Ah, yes... our welcome.  Good evening to you as well, fine ladies... or would you prefer if I called you arthropods?”

“Either way, we’re here to see the Mother of All Weeds. Would you mind terribly showing us in so she and we can have a proper chat?” Isabel smiled pleasantly up at the seven foot tall ‘petite’ receptionists, and the two of them exchanged a blank-faced look.

“You are welcome, Time Lord. Please, come in.” The slimmer of the two smiled a terribly unnatural smile, gesturing with her hand for them to follow. “Your companion is … unexpected. Do you not find her limited company tiresome?”

“Perhaps if her company was unlimited, but its limits are part of what make it fascinating.  You, on the other hand, are interesting only as an enigma, and are one I have long since solved.  Please, show us in.”  The Doctor smirked, her eyes sparkling fondly as she glanced toward Isabel.

“As you wish, Time Lord.” The other woman, arms longer than any natural human would have been, escorted them from the lobby and up the stairs, a dozen or so flights, until they arrived in a formal ballroom crowded with … people. If they could be called that, anymore.

“Darling, I think you may have gotten the date just a smidge wrong.” Isabel’s voice was light and mild, utterly nerveless.

“Eleven months... at least.  How could my math have been more than six months off?”  The Doctor glanced at one of their guides as if it was her fault, then cleared her throat.  “Mother Yggdrasil... the Doctor is here!”

A voice like the whisper of the wind through vast branches came from every.... throat, if they could be called that any longer - in the room. “Time Lord. A beautiful planet - I will enjoy sprouting here.”

“You see, there’s a problem with that.  This planet already has people living on it, you know... people I’ve gone through a lot of trouble to keep here.  So, if you’ll kindly pack up your progeny and move along, all this can be forgotten.  If not... there _will_  be trouble.”

“Destroyer of Worlds, I do not fear you. Will you try to burn me out root and branch, and kill so many of your precious children?” The branches around them rippled and swayed. “I am Yggdrasil, and I will not be moved. Test me at your peril.”

“Very well.”  The Doctor simply started to walk, forward, toward the crowd.  “You see... you have a problem here.  Your progeny need their links with their hosts in order to survive... none in this room are quite mature enough to live without their links, are they?  So you have to keep the hosts asleep, peaceful, alive.  They wake up, your children die.  Am I correct so far?”

The branches hissed their assent.

“It’s also very well-known that certain things will break the link that keeps the hosts asleep.  Patterns of light, X-ray radiation, competing psychic efforts - your hold on them is tenuous - as well as something else.  You know what that is?”

This time the trees rumbled like something gnawing at the bones of the earth.

“Certain hypersonic vibrations.  Now, this is where it gets good.”  The Doctor lifted her sonic screwdriver high above her head.  “Cover your ears, dearest.”  Then she activated the device, sending dogs barking four blocks away, a pulse of sound above the hearing of any human, loud enough to make the Doctor shake in discomfort even as she continued to send it through the area.

The room quivered with fury and pain, branches lashing long scars into the walls, a few of them whipping toward the Doctor only to shrink back from the weight of the sound. Finally, however, something louder began to rumble through the walls of the Savoy... something vast and terrible. The laughter of Yggdrasil.

“Oh... funny, is it?”  The Doctor increased the volume of the sound, and the windows on the far end of the room exploded outward.

“Yes.” The word wrenched itself from the howling pain of the progeny who clawed at the walls to escape the sound, cold and vast and amused. “Your puny Time Lord tricks - always grandstanding. I never cared for Rassilion, either.”

“What did you do with them, then, Mother Dearest?  You bury them?  Keep them somewhere far off?  No... too much risk.  Too much difficulty.”  The Doctor’s eyes widened.  “You drugged them.  Knocked them out that way.”

“Humans have so many, many lovely plants to bring on sleep. So easy to make them part of myself.” The writhing creatures clinging to the walls turned as one vast body, their great wooden joints creaking. “Any last words before my children tear you apart, Time Lord?”

“I have a few.” Isabel’s voice trembled lightly, but it was loud enough to fill the room. “Seconds out, you overgrown weed. Someone lays a hand on the Doctor, and we all go up.”

The Doctor turned her head, gazing at her companion, her eyes widening as the powerful plasma weapon Isabel carried glowed with an intense white light, aimed directly upward.  “Oh, my dear, you are good...”  The Doctor turned back toward the crowd.  “Well, there you have it.  I regenerate five more times.  How many lives do you have left?”

“The puny _human_ is bluffing. To kill herself for this? No. Leave the Time Lord, human. Leave, and I will let you live in my garden.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Isabel spoke through gritted teeth, ignoring the ache in her skull. “You pack up your show and go, or I blow us all to hell.”

“You see, Mother Dearest, my friend here knows her numbers, and she knows the costs and benefits of what she’s threatening to do - one free human life, one regeneration of a Time Lord, and a few dozen of your hostages who you’re going to kill anyway... in return for the rest of human history.  It’s an easy choice, put that way, isn’t it?”  The Doctor smirked.  “Again I ask... how many lives do you have to sacrifice?”

“History. World. Abstractions. I have seen the insides of them! Humans do not die for this!” Yggdrasil’s whisper had risen almost to a scream. “She lies!”

“Not history.” Isabel dragged the words out, her finger aching against the trigger, but her whisper commanded the room. “Her. Just her. You’ll kill her, and I won’t live in a world without her. Ever. Now. Get. Out.”

A great sound like the shattering of stone and the screaming of a dying word filled the Savoy, trembling the building, and the children of Yggdrasil crumbled like so much broken wood as their Mother fled into all the times and spaces that ever were.

“Well, that was dramatic.  Is there any way you can put that thing away without firing it?”  The Doctor smiled to Isabel, her voice light, yet something in her eyes - almost entirely hidden - showed just how thoroughly she grasped what her companion had said, what it meant, and how much she appreciated it.

“Is there any way you could turn off that damn thing so I have half a chance of doing it properly instead of blowing us both up because my skull is throbbing?”

“Ah, yes!”  The Doctor lowered the sonic screwdriver, deactivating it with a sheepish grin.

“Thank god. I thought the bloody brass band was going to start playing in my head.” Isabel lowered the gun carefully, holding it at full extension, and slowly moved her other hand over its recessed buttons until the glow faded to a glimmer, and then to nothing. “Think it burned my fucking fingers.”

“Come here.”  The Doctor extended her hand to Isabel, standing amongst the slowly-melting forms of the progeny.

Isabel switched the gun to her left hand, holding the still-white-hot muzzle carefully away from her, and walked to the Doctor with her right hand offered out. The lower fingers and palm were, indeed, burned - blistered and red where the heat shield around her trigger fingers and upper hand had failed to properly protect them.

The Doctor gently ran her fingers along the unburnt flesh of Isabel’s hand, then drew from a pocket a long cloth, which she ran over the burns.  As it passed over them, the skin numbed and cooled, and a moment later the only sign of the injury was a redness to the skin.

Isabel sighed with relief, turning her body carefully to the side to avoid pressing the gun against the Doctor as she pressed herself to the smaller woman. “Bit of a to do, wasn’t it?”

The Doctor slipped her arms around Isabel gently.  “Dinner, then?”

“God, yes. I’m utterly famished. Think they’ll cut our bill or pad it when we tell them we saved their hotel from aliens by threatening to blow it up?”

“I expect they’ll want to bill us for the cleaning.”  The Doctor made a face as she stepped toward the door, fleeing the advancing puddle of alien.

“Best not to tell them, then. What they don’t know won’t hurt them, after all.” Isabel leaned into the Doctor, the weapon finally cool enough holster, and pressed a kiss to her beloved’s neck. “Maybe we can even get a room for the night.”


End file.
